


Support Strangers

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cute, Dogs, Dogs being dogs, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Fluff, F/M, Humor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Winchester Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Service Dogs, Strangers to Friends, Talking, Walking the dog, park, parks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 07:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: "Do you live nearby?”“Actually, I just moved here for a job opportunity,” Sam says. “But that fell through, so I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here. Hoyt seems to like it. Mainly because he likes tearing up the boxes from the move, so that set me back a little. And my brother’s here with his husband. I used to tease him, before I left for Stanford, about having this big mansion while he was still nuking Hot Pockets. Now I’m bunking with him in his mansion.”“Wow, I’m so glad I ate my twin in the womb.”Was laughing always this easy? It’s been too long for him to remember.





	Support Strangers

Sam’s just walking alongside his slobbery companion in his local park—correction: being _dragged_ alongside his slobbery companion, who may as well be competing every middle-aged woman in the area for the speed-walking title—when he’s jerked back by the firm tug of his leash and a single, heart-stopping bark. “Hoyt? Hoyt! I’m so sorry; he’s usually not like this. Greyhounds aren’t usually this aggressive with other dogs...”

“It’s okay,” the woman replies. Sam looks up, and notices she’s tapping the thumb of her right hand on her chest. “Really. Despite what people say about cocker spaniels, Lily doesn’t bite. Look, she’s—Lily, are you trying to lick his face??”

The woman bends down and rubs Lily’s head. That’s when Sam notices the hearing piece poking through layers of thick brunette hair. He waits for her to look back up at him before speaking. “It’s too kind of a gesture, considering Hoyt had his nose so far up her backside a moment ago. He’s really into butts.”

“I bet he loves baseball games.”

Sam tilts his head back. “So that’s the real reason woman accompany us to the games.”

“Well, that and you’ll be too distracted by the rooting team hitting a home-run; we’ll be able to pawn five more dollars off you for another hot dog.”

Sam smiles. It’s been so long since he’s done so, he mistakes warmth in his chest for an oncoming panic attack. His only indication and reassurance it’s not one his Hoyt, who hasn’t pressed himself against him. “Sam.”

“Eileen.” The woman smiles in return, rousing the dimples hidden in her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you here before. Do you live nearby?”

“Actually, I just moved here for a job opportunity,” Sam says. “But that fell through, so I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here. Hoyt seems to like it. Mainly because he likes tearing up the boxes from the move, so that set me back a little. And my brother’s here with his husband. I used to tease him, before I left for Stanford, about having this big mansion while he was still nuking Hot Pockets. Now I’m bunking with him in _his_ mansion.”

“Wow, I’m so glad I ate my twin in the womb.”

Was laughing always this easy? It’s been too long for him to remember.

“So wait, you went to Stanford? What did you study?”

“Law,” Sam replies. “Why?”

“Maybe I spared my twin after all.”

“No way.”

Eileen chuckles, “Yeah. Were you there when Professor Henriksen was teaching Criminal Law?”

“Are you kidding?” Sam scoffs, “Did I survive the second coming of the apocalypse?”

“He really was the worst. A thirty-slide minimum presentation about the Miranda rights? There’s only a handful of them!”

“Right?” Sam shakes his head before turning his attention back to the dogs, who are engaged in a friendly fencing battle with their noses. “Isn’t it amazing how dogs make friends easier than us? I mean, how’s that possible? Hoyt is 30 years older than me, too. He should be looking into retirement homes and boycotting China-made products.”

“Well he’s obviously making a stop at his local BINGO night,” Eileen laughs. “Lily is nine, but she doesn’t act like it. She wakes me up fifteen minutes before my alarm. I guess I should find it flattering that she doesn’t think I need the beauty rest, because I’d rather not think it’s because she’s onto my horrible punctuality.”

“Are you kidding? Your punctuality made my dog ten times happier. Look at them.”

Eileen chuckles with Sam as Lily sniff-inspects Hoyt, who’s now assuming his famous starfish position on the dewy grass. She notices the shift in Sam, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Do you… wanna sit, maybe?” Sam offers, surprising himself. He hasn’t talked to anyone outside his brother in two weeks. Conversation is a lot like interpretive dance. If he makes one wrong move, the whole performance can be misunderstood.

Eileen’s lips spread into an easy smile. “Sure.”

There’s a pause Sam fills rubbing behind his dog’s ears rather than his own and, for a moment, everything is blissful. The wind weaving in and out of the pine trees serenades his ears. The morning sun strips the stiffness from his bones. The smell of the wet grass cleanses his body like sage. Then he says this:

“Were you born deaf?”

Lily barks.

He was better off sticking to a waltz. “Sorry, did I... ask too much?”

Eileen laughs. “No, no. Lily’s just reminding me she hasn’t gotten her full walk in. She gets feisty sometimes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry if I’m keeping you, I didn’t, you—“

“Did you just sign ‘sorry’?”

Sam glances down. He has his right hand, balled into a fist, resting against his chest. “I... uh… was also minoring in linguistics before... Sorry, I didn’t even know I was doing that.”

“Don’t apologize.” Eileen smiles.

“Sorry.”

“You really like that word.”

“It’s an underrated word.”

Eileen nods and shifts her gaze to the scene playing out in front of them: Kids competing in a game of tag as far out as the forest, running dizzying laps around the trees while Moms referee the plays. Dads waving their greasy spatulas and roar over the sizzle of their burgers and the static of their handheld radio as their star team scores another touchdown.

“My parents were stationed in Baghdad when they had me,” Eileen says. “They wanted to fly me back to the states to my Aunt Mildred, but Operation Opera had previous arrangements. I think I was two weeks old.”

Sam wants to say it again— _yearns_ for the familiar comfort of that cold, empty word. “Do you remember any of it?”

“No, but it did explain my fear of thunderstorms. Just like Lily.” She pets Lily. Lily happily plops on the grass despite Hoyt probing at her with his long, spotted nose.

“I’m afraid of burning buildings,” says Sam. Those words leave coldness on his lips too, but they’re not empty. “And saving people from burning buildings.”

“I’d say that’s a pretty common fear.”

“I don’t know. My brother doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything. He pulled _me_ from a burning building without second thought. He’s the Deputy District Chief of Lebanon now. I spent a week on the job and every single day, it brought me back to the apartment fire that killed my girlfriend. The one he saved me from.”

“It wasn’t for you.”

He really appreciates her not using the backhanded ‘s’ word.

“No.” Sam smiles, but his lips are still frozen. “But I really, really wanted it to be.”

After a moment, Eileen shakes her head. “Shame, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Learning the difference between what you want and what’s best for you. That ‘doing what you love’ is the difference between self-fulfillment and self-care. It’s the unfortunate side-effect of becoming an adult.”

Sam turns to her. “The lawyer thing didn’t pan out for you either?”

“Oh it did,” Eileen reassures. “I just had to switch from social work. I was forced to recognize that, no matter how much I wanted to, I wasn’t emotionally available for those kids. It wouldn’t be fair to them. I was in and out of foster care until I was fifteen, and I’m still dealing with the effects twenty-three years later. But I could help them feel more empowered through law enforcement. More in control.”

“Wow, that’s… super cool.” Sam scoffs as his eyebrows approach the steps of his creased forehead.

Eileen smiles. “You know, cool is signed the same way as ‘fine’. You almost had it. Just relax your fingers a little more when you sign.”

Sam glances down and laughs. He follows her advice—may as well, now that he’s got his thumb on his chest—and wiggles his other fingers.

That’s the key: Acknowledge he’s doing the right thing and just try again differently.

“Do you want to go out sometime? I mean—you know, for the dogs. For a playdate.”

Eileen blinks a few times. For a split second, Sam hopes she didn’t see his lips. But then hers unveil her dimples again and Sam’s falling in love with oral communication—and life—all over again. “It’s a date.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For my own greyhound who passed a few weeks ago. Love you, Cash. <3


End file.
